Relevancy
by eloquentfever
Summary: Sebastian Smythe got everything he wanted. Sure, he had a bunch of disordered eating and he was traumatised to death, but he got everything he wanted, right? Well, wrong. It was all wrong. Sebastian undergoes a trauma and has to deal with Dalton knowing about it, as well as Kurt and Blaine, but he doesn't need help, right? Trigger: ED, character death by suicide.


_this is seriously thoroughly strange. i love it. this is the first thing i ever wrote on my college laptop. it's slightly (by my standards) dark-ish because of the tone. there's definitely a shit tonne of themes. one thing the series didn't count is eating disorders, which is definitely mentioned here a few times. otherwise, this is pretty much a whole block of text of Sebangst with little bits of Kurt here and there. enjoy! :P. i do not mean to seriously offend anyone by this by the way. i have not take any issue presented here as lightly but simply suggest that different people deal with things differently, and in the end, serious is serious. this definitely has its sarcasm and apathy and darkness bit here and there and that's why i love it. things are buried underneath layers of dark humour. the whole plot! :) just be aware that i do not mean to offend you and yes, my humour can be horrifically dry. xo _

* * *

Everything all came down to a simple fact: Sebastian Smythe did _whatever_ the fuck he wanted.

There was no room for failure. In any game, failure meant _death_, one small error can cost him his life – though he wasn't a fan of meaningless games, he was a fan of understanding the basis it was structured around. That was the most useful analogy he'd ever lived by: it was either live, or die a violet brutal death by the arms of a bunch of corporate bastards. That was what his Dad taught him anyway.

In the animal kingdom, no chicken stopped to help his baby chick that was obviously going to be devoured by a lion. It was survival of the fittest, and he'd been oh-so-good in Biology these past few years. However, applying it to his basic life, surviving in such a cold, damned world meant that he was a _selfish fucking prick _and _had an ego the size of his ass._ Damned if he knew how going on about how fugly he was would receive a _yeah, get over yourself. _

Sebastian would puke over anyone who called him perfect, but damn them to hell if they insulted him or his Father. His Father was his lifeline. When they heard of the name Jean Smythe, they thought: oh, what a tough guy! Yeah, Sebastian found out that a guy can't be 'tough' and 'cold-hearted' and still buy him a Buick every month, or call him up at midnight with words of _see that fucking huge ass studded belt? If I'm home and you're not in bed, I will make sure it lands a nice looking purple bruise on it, okay? _Sebastian smirked. His Father wouldn't lay a hand on him if Sebastian would've killed his Mother and gagged her. Actually, Sebastian knew for a fact that if he gagged Nathalie and threatened her perky size two blonde ass, his Father would probably buy him an entire estate for doing him the favour.

If there was anything in this world that Sebastian Smythe hated more than Kurt virgin ass Hummel was his irritating, nosy hell of a bitch Mother. He'd rather cut off his own arm than spend five minutes with her or any of her equally blonde 'friends' that compare tits sizes and how many times they have sex in a day. That last conversation made Sebastian want to throw up. In passing by, Jean had caught only a silver of the conversation and then asked Nathalie, _and you _wonder_ why the kid's gay? _

Actually, Sebastian remembered coming out to his parents. His Mother wanted to take him out on a fucking shopping spree for fuck's sake and his Father told him that if anyone made fun of him for it, he was gonna ensure they ended up bankrupt for the most of it. His Father was a state attorney but he was also ideally a business man that had one too many damned connections that _somehow, someway_ ended up with him passing through the Dalton system which was the most shocking piece of anything he'd ever learned because a) he failed all of his classes the previous years and b) he had a criminal record and mostly, a school as prestige as Dalton didn't like the sound of _bailed out of jail in 21 hours after caught smuggling heroin into French boarders. _

When Sebastian asked him how the hell that managed to happen, the man simply said: _the only thing you gotta learn about life and living good is that no matter whoever the fuck you are, you always have a price. Doesn't mean that you're gonna offer 10 grand to anyone and they'll pass you by. I'm telling you people do shit; bad shit, and then they try to cover it up, except they can't because they leave a scrap of evidence here and there, and if you look hard enough, you can dig up dirt. You know why it's called digging up dirt? Because people are fucking liars and try to make angels out of themselves but they're all fuck-ups, all of them. Screw-ups. All of them have a price, doesn't have to be money, but it's always something. Everyone has something they don't want anyone else to know and that's why I fucking tell you everything. If you've got nothing to hide, then why the fuck should anyone care, right? _

His Father and his Father's corporation and everyone he worked with knew the last grimy detail of anything about his Father. Sebastian sounded out his sexual expeditions like they were academic achievements without a care in the world. He was taught to not feel guilt, taught not to be vulnerable. Sometimes, Sebastian liked to make up situations in his head and asked the shit out of his Dad when he was as bored as fuck, which just happened to be most of the time. The house had more than five fucking stories and eleven damned maids and none of them can entertain him. Lily had bluntly refused to role-play as a prostitute again and refused to have another round of 'role-play BDSM hot maid sex' with Amy – even though he was pretty sure that Amy damn well liked having her ass spanked by Lily, which was a shame because he really liked the thought of having control over their maids' sex lives.

He once asked his Dad, _if someone held me and Mom hostage, what would you do?_

_They can have your Mother, _Jean responded when he was making himself a cup of coffee. The man had eleven maids and he still liked making his own damned coffee. Showed that laziness was a product of human mind. If you wanted to get up and do something, you got up and did it because 'I have eleven maids, work from six to nine on good days' wasn't a damned excuse for Jean Smythe to say that he can't be bothered to make his own coffee. _They can have you too. _He said after a period of thought.

Sebastian shrugged. _That's a load of fairy-tale type bullshit right there,_ like his Father would ever leave him behind in a situation like that.

Then _it_ happened.

They didn't take about _it_, but they can't say that _it_ didn't happen. Sebastian didn't remember much of _it_, which made him furious because he should know every detail, because normal people had that shit recurring in his heads, but it was _fuzzy_. Dammit, the fuzziness scared him even more. He didn't know what they did to him, how they hurt him, and that was the worst feeling in the world. He just looked at the time and wondered if that was the time it happened. He knew it was at night. He also knew that whatever they slipped in his drink – did he drink anything? – was to ensure he couldn't remember anything but a big blank in his timeline. He can remember that he went out of Dalton, got coffee, but everything else came up at a grey blank. Sometimes, he'd remember that he ordered himself a latte and felt like throwing it up, but the worst thing was not repeating trauma in their head. It was above all of the shit, piss, vomit, and gore, he can strain all he wanted to, but his memory came at a constant blank.

There was nothing worse in the world that having something done to you, done to your body, and you didn't know any of it. There was just nothing worse than having someone violate your fucking body, and then you came up to a draw at the end.

"What now?" Sebastian asked his Father when they had gotten into the car.

Jean looked like he wasn't even in this world, thinking of something else. If Sebastian didn't know any better, it was Jean that had a damned grey blank in his mind, not Sebastian. Damn that grey blank. Damned it all.

"Are you gonna cry or some shit?" Jean asked, but Sebastian shrugged. Was he supposed to? He didn't know what the fuck was he supposed to do. There was nothing in his class that went all How to React During Any Traumatic Event—school only taught people useless shit, like physics and calculations he won't ever use in his entire fucking life. "Do you want any coffee?"

Sebastian was sure that normal people would go like _oh no, I got coffee before _it_ happened, alright? _and melt down into some tearful confession that was going to require a lot of hugging and reassurances and shit. Sebastian just shrugged. "Latte," he murmured. "Five brown sugars, one white sugar."

"You're gonna get some premature diabetes," Jean finally said. "You don't wanna get diabetes. People can use that shit against you. Steal your injections or whatever."

"Make that two white and five brown," Sebastian spitefully responded. Jean got him the coffee and it was far too damned sugary sweet. Sebastian got a headache from the sugar rush but hey, he proved a point. At least to his self. He thought about _it_ for a second, but then thought that he didn't remember any of it, so why was he trying to remember it? What the _fuck_ was wrong with him?

"What are you gonna tell Nathalie?"

"Your _Mother_," Jean forcibly stated. "You don't call her by your name. You don't go ahead and call me Jean, do you?"

Sebastian shrugged and then asked. "Well, I'll start calling her Mother when she acts like one."

"You didn't come out of anyone else's pussy, alright?"

"That's as graphic as shit." Sebastian finally commented, and Jean hadn't answered his first question, meant he was dodging it. Sebastian figured that one out the minute he made a comment about the Nathalie thing. His Father was staring at him.

"Tell me the truth; were you lying to that damned Doctor?" Jean looked over at the road. Brown eyes as hard as shit, and held too much knowledge around the world. Sebastian realised he didn't give a damn about his Father's understanding of the human biological whatever the fuck that was and focused a lot more about more important shit, like his Father's understanding of his own son. Sebastian didn't realise how little his Father knew about him until he drew out that fucking vulgar statement.

"_Lying_?" Sebastian said after a while, raising an eyebrow. "You think I want to tell some medical authority bastard that oh—_hey, I got caught into a rut, I was weak, vulnerable and drugged out of my head and I don't know what happened but I gave the police every damned thing I was carrying and here's my body: examine the shit out of it_. Everyone wants to remember that they're weak, damned rodents in this world, huh?"

Jean didn't respond for a while, eyes still as hard as ever before, lips still pressed, and then he asked, 'I'm still as shocked as hell that you can chug down any liquid with seven damned sugars."

Sebastian shook his head, and let the hot coffee burn his tongue. Too. Fucking. Sweet. He dumped it in the trash on their way home and his Father gave him a raised eyebrow. Sebastian shut the door to his room after giving his Father his most eloquent _fuck you to Hell _face.

* * *

He wasn't sure what the protocol was for _it_, but he was sure he deserved like a day off or something, right? But no, Lily had to slam the door open up at six fucking am and tell him to get up and get dressed. He was sure that he was supposed to be cautious about his appearance or something now that _it_ happened, but he can barely give a fuck about whatever he was wearing. Something about him supposedly only wanting to wear long-sleeves and big clothing so that he wasn't exposed or whatever that movie or book told him. He was sure it was a movie and a gross boring one at that.

Sebastian wore his blazer over his shirt, and he looked the same as he always did, but the minute he went downstairs, Jean took one look at him and told him that he looked like shit.

"Thank you for your eternal support," Sebastian rolled his eyes, and then grabbed the coffee off the table. He drank a bit of it.

"I told you to stop being a fucking glutton, didn't I?" Jean said, poking at Sebastian's stomach as if he was expecting bulges to come out on his small frame.

"I'm traumatised," Sebastian drew out as an excuse, "I need coffee."

"Medical opinion is bullshit. You've got a cold and they're insisting it's cancer. They all just want their bullshit diagnosis' money's worth too," Jean said, taking a sip of the coffee he plucked from Sebastian's hands. He watched as Nathalie walked inside of the room. Her blonde hair done up in some curly-haired celebrity-inspired bullshit and her eyes were full of tears as she hugged Sebastian as tightly as ever. Jean raised an eyebrow, "Nathalie, stop punishing the boy because you're on your damned period—"

"Shut up, Jean," Nathalie shot back. "My baby is traumatised."

"Oh, yeah, that," Jean rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Is he going to school?" the woman spat out in horror. "You cannot let him go to school. I will pick apart your ligaments, Jean. He is just a _child_. He doesn't know how to handle such horrible _things_! Things especially like this. He should stay at home for the remainder of the _week_, no scratch that, _month_ and _what about therapy? Anti-depressants?_ Jean!"

"Does he look depressed to you?" Jean gestured towards Sebastian who feigned a look of great dismay, causing the gullible woman to run to him and give him a cup of water even though Sebastian was already sipping Jean's coffee.

"I heard from Marie that you don't have to look depressed to be depressed," Nathalie scrunched up her nose, and licked the upper part of her cherry-red lipstick. She turned around, allowing her multitude of blonde curls to bob up into the air. "And besides, he might not even be depressed. He might be in _shock_, or even _worse_, Jean. What if he starts _cutting_ or breaks down _crying_ one day or what if he—"

Jean rolled his eyes before answering. "I'm sure that his Math test won't lead him to cut himself bit by fucking bit. The boy's an asshole. I like it. He shines like a Ferrari. He doesn't need no fucking therapist."

Sebastian busied himself with the cup of coffee. "Is this a latte?"

"Yeah, full-fat."

She placed a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. "Is your appetite changing? Sleeping patterns? Do you want to eat more? Do you want to eat less? Are you sleeping at all? Do you sleep too much?" she questioned him quickly, as she pulled his head in her hands. "Oh, my baby. Look at him, Jean. He's such a tiny thing. He's as adorable as Chanel's catalogue. Why would anyone want to hurt my baby boy?"

"Your baby boy tried to blind some kid," Jean pointed out.

"He was just playing rough with the boys," she ran her fingers through Sebastian's hair. Sebastian rolled his eyes as she kissed his cheek. "Let him off one day, Jean."

"He's got a car and he's getting in it," Jean announced with a strict, certain voice.

Nathalie's eyes widened. Green orbs bursting centimetres wider than they were. "What?" she hissed. "You're letting him _drive_ on his own as well? Jean, give the boy a small break. If you insist on taking him to school, the only proper thing you can do is make sure that Sebastian is in the backseat of your car. Where's Cillian? I can ask Cillian to take Sebastian and I can stay home and delay my appointment at Tracy's for another few hours. _Cillian_!"

"Stop pampering him," Jean rolled his eyes, placing a hand on Sebastian's blazer. Sebastian pulled out his car keys from his pocket, earning a glare from Nathalie.

"Pampering him? He's traumatised! He's hurt! _Your small child is in pain_!"

"My '_small child'_ is taller than I am!" Jean reminded her, eyes hard as he raised his eyebrow. Sebastian grabbed his keys and left, earning a laugh from Jean and a hysterical cry from Nathalie whom said something about Jean 'pressuring' Sebastian to leave. Sebastian just wanted to leave because all of this was fucking bullshit. The only thing that traumatised him was the fact that Hummel can call himself a boy. He was _fine_.

He drove to Dalton. He walked through the walls like he owned them, because dammit, he can't even remember _it_, much less obsess about it.

* * *

His worst nightmare came to him in blonde perfection and six-inch-heels. He was going to kill his Mother one day.

She was standing in the middle of the class next to Principal Andrew Hill, whom was looked through the class, eyes darting to and from Sebastian and the teacher for a moment. "An unfortunate event has happened that you should be aware of," Sebastian felt his stomach jab, mostly with fury at his insane Mother. "I would like you to pay special attention to. As you all know, I am only here to confirm your rumours about Sebastian Smythe and to say that they are in fact true and for that, I would like you to offer as much support as possible and for teachers, any possible extensions?"

"Of course," the female teacher nodded and Andrew sent a sympathetic look towards Sebastian, before moving with his Mother.

A cluster of whispers began and Sebastian felt a dull ache. He wondered if someone can be in so much anger they started to feel pain. During the lunch period, he'd had Jeff offer to get him some food and when Sebastian declined his offer in the politest way possible ("fuck you, you oversized Rugrat, I don't need you to get me food!"), Jeff came back with a bunch of mozzarella sticks, three brownies, and two egg salad sandwiches. Sebastian had taken to stabbing the macadamia nuts from his sandwich for the most part, which led to Jeff shutting his eyes as if he was being stabbed by the fucking fork. Sebastian thought about it for a moment and wondered how much it'll hurt blondie if he stabbed Malfoy's balls with a fork, then decided he wasn't _that_ evil. It must fucking hurt like Hell.

"So, how do you feel?" Jeff chirped.

Sebastian just gave Jeff a star-approved death glare.

"I can carry your books," Trent squeezed out.

Sebastian's death glare was now set on Trent, as his eyes turned to ice. "We haven't even _fucked_ yet, Trent," he said after a moment.

David said nothing for a moment. Nick stared at him vacantly. A new Warbler finally mumbled, "I think you deserve it", which earned a round of gasps from the table. Sebastian stayed stoic for a moment, then stood up from his chair and gave the boy a grade-A punch before he was torn away from his teachers.

* * *

"Unstable," the Warbler that now had a black-eye stated, "he is so unstable—"

"Shush now, Mr Bright," Andrew gave him a long and concentrated look, before he looked back at Sebastian, whom was sitting beside Jean. "I was told that you have said something that is upsetting of nature to him."

"Damn right that motherfucker did!" Thad shouted from where he stood, eavesdropping on the conversation. Thad was being torn by David's hands, whom was pulling him away from the doorway, as Prefects often do. "He told him that he deserved it!"

Andrew twitched slightly. Sebastian remained completely stoic, and Jean mirrored his son's expression completely.

"I think I'd like you both to stay in after your classes are over and do some community service hours regardless of the reason," Andrew murmured.

"Fair," Jean concluded after some time.

Sebastian just shrugged and met his eyes with the Bright kid, whom was staring at him coldly. The staring match continued for a while before Sebastian was pulled away with a hard shove by Jean, whom was staring at Sebastian in a disapproving way. "What have I told you about starting more fights?"

"I didn't," Sebastian muttered. "I just socked him for an honestly good reason." He saw a glimmer of emotion in his Father's eyes that threw Sebastian back completely. "You…you…honestly think that I wanted it, don't you?"

"A whore does everything willingly."

Sebastian's eyes hardened darkly. "Yes, I'm a whore, a slut, whatever, but I did not willingly—"

"Discussion is over."

Sebastian laughed darkly. "What would it get for you to believe me?" his voice wavered slightly.

"I'm getting coffee," Jean said, as he stopped by the cafeteria doorway. "Do you want some coffee?"

Sebastian sighed and nodded his head. He believed the conversation was over. Sebastian stood there, waited for his Father to get him a small cup of coffee. He drained half of it in three minutes and then went back to his dorm room, only met with a sympathetic Jeff on the way, whom honestly asked him if he wanted anything but the coffee.

"All you _drink_ is coffee," Jeff murmured. "It's like you don't eat anymore and you even lost weight. That's not a good sign. Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?"

_"Shut the fuck up!"_ Sebastian bellowed angrily, causing Jeff to step backwards, but his eyes still glittered with sadness.

"I'm sorry any of that happened to you."

"Ha!" Sebastian laughed like a maniac. Yeah. Sorry. He wasn't fucking sorry. Underneath all of that, he was probably grinning like Hell that he finally got what he deserved. That damned Warbler spoke out his mind alright. Sure, Sebastian didn't take it well but he knew that that was probably true. They liked to see him as weak as Kurt fucking Hummel. They liked it. They fed on it like it was some sort of nectar. He can _feel_ it. "You're not sorry for me! Nobody is! Project your pity somewhere else, Blondie, because you're a horrendous actor!"

"What?" Jeff paled significantly.

Sebastian laughed again as he left to get more coffee, dumping his unfinished one in the trash. Damn right he was gonna finish a coffee his Father made him. He smiled at the thought of wasting his Father's money. He walked to the Lima Bean, pulled out a twenty and told the girl to keep the change. He found Hummel and sex on a stick sitting beside each other and chattering on about love shit that Sebastian didn't care to listen to. He moved towards them with a quick fluid motion, placing his whatever macchiato shit on the table and staring straight into Blaine's eyes.

"Didn't we get rid of you?" Kurt murmured darkly, as he sipped from the side of his mocha and then his eyes filled with recognition. "…what happened to your eye?"

"_What_?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow. They were going to be cryptic and shit now and figure out that _it_ happened or… "What the fuck—?"

Kurt pulled out his compact mirror which made Sebastian silently snort under his breath as he stared at what Kurt was pointing towards. "I got into a fight," he said, realising the existence of that damned black eye. He smiled a sick smile.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Sebastian…"

"I can tell you all about it when we fuck," Sebastian murmured, placing his hand on Blaine's cheek which earned a push from Blaine's cheek. Sebastian felt a frazzle of something in his chest, his heart twisted and pumped much faster. He felt like he was going to fucking throw up. Sebastian stood up right then, taking his macchiato thingy with him, and Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"See you later, babe," he smirked towards Blaine and then stared back at Kurt. "You too, Gay face."

Almost as if it was on track, Sebastian felt fuzziness, greyness and saw Kurt Hummel's face close enough to kiss him. He realised he was on the floor, and something hot burned his shoulder. He groaned once, and then everything turned to black.

* * *

When the world came to view, he saw that both Hummel and sex on a stick were sitting beside each other on chairs next to him. What a way to wake up with his favourite couple sitting there like some dramatic chick flick and then he heard annoying yelling. It took him a while to realise that annoying yelling was his Mother screaming at his Father.

"I told you that he was tired. I told you that he is traumatised—"

Jean just shot back his argument rather quickly. "He collapsed because he was dehydrated. Nothing about trauma in there—"

"Jean, listen to me!" Nathalie exclaimed.

His head pounded. Sebastian knew the only logical thing to do was to shout at both of them. Ha. "Will you both fucking shut up?!" they looked back, staring at him both with shocked expressions on their face, but then they said nothing for a while. Holy Jesus on a bicycle. Finally. They stopped talking. That was a _miracle_.

His Mother made her way towards him, pulling his head into her hands. "Love, are you alright? Shh, you're not. Jean, get him a therapist."

"He's fine," Jean shrugged and then smirked towards Sebastian. "Aren't you?"

Sebastian glowered at his Father darkly. "_Absolutely amazing_," he murmured.

"See!" Jean said, placing a hand on Sebastian, patting his shoulder. "He's gonna be fine, Nathalie. Stop obsessing over it. He's going to be just fine—are—"Jean paused to stare at Sebastian. "Are you _crying_?" he was saying it in a nearly mocking tone, his voice high.

Nathalie's arms were tightly around Sebastian's chest. "Shh, Jean, he's never cried before."

"So, you have a heart," Jean murmured.

"Shut the fuck up! Especially you!" Sebastian roared with anger and agony. "Both of you refuse to even say the word so I'm just going to flat out say it because we're some in denial narcissistic family and I am so fucking sick of it! _It_ happened, didn't it?! What is _it_, Mother? What is _it_, Father? What the fuck is _it_?" hot, angry tears rolled down his cheeks with his every word.

They were silent for a moment. Kurt was as pale as a sheet and Blaine was holding his hand.

"Rape!" Sebastian exclaimed. "I got fucking _raped_! There! _I_ said it!_ I said it_! Are you fucking happy?"

"Ecstatic," Jean muttered as Sebastian looked away from his Father, not bearing to stare up at him.

Sebastian's tears turned to nothing. He realised that after the first three tears, he literally could not cry anymore, mostly out of anger. He was so angry that he can't even produce tears. What a fucking joke. This family was a fucking joke. He looked up to see his Mother, whom was staring at him like he was one of those shitlessly easily fragile breakable whatever China plates they had. Damn things. They never used them. Hummel was as pale as shit. Blaine was speechless, and Sebastian didn't even fuck him speechless either.

Ha. Fuck.

"So, how do you feel now?" the nurse said.

"Like I can't feel a damned thing." Sebastian murmured.

Jean rolled his eyes. "I think it's an advantage."

"Amazing," Sebastian retorted, voice icy. "Of course, me being held down against my will and raped is always the advantage." Kurt flinched in the corner. Sebastian found no pain in his words, nothing, and then he smirked. It gave him some dark, twisted satisfaction that the knowledge of the truth finally did something good for him, made people feel for him. Well, people were shit. He didn't even feel sorry for himself. Then again, he can be a little fucked in the head. Blaine had hugged him and shit. Now, if they can have sex, it'll be damned perfect. How come that Blaine would be all for comforting weak and vulnerable raped Sebastian but wasn't all for sex?

"Excuse me, Mr Smythe," Kurt sounded angry, but it was the type of anger that was concealed through respect and politeness. His Father liked that shit. Maybe if Kurt swooned his Dad enough, his Dad can get them into an arranged marriage. Hooray. That must also be an advantage, like how starving himself senselessly in ninth grade just taught him how powerful his body was and how can he survive without being a glutton – except you know, that day he passed out and had to have a feeding tube hooked to his stomach – but that was just a minor consequence to a level of power and control. Dad said so, so Dad was right. "Though I must dare say that rape is quite a serious issue that needs to be addressed—"

"Why?" Jean cut him off.

Kurt was shocked. It made Sebastian want to laugh.

"I'm actually still surprised you unwillingly had sex with anyone," Jean murmured towards Sebastian.

"Fucking fair enough," Sebastian responded though Kurt's mouth had completely dropped by then. If his first reaction was fun, this one was just plain hilarious. The epitome of all the damned jokes really.

"No, it's not fair!" Kurt exploded in fury. "You are his Father. I believe you must be compassionate and you must provide Sebastian with the help he needs—"

"Oh, just look at Sebastian. Look at how _torn_ he is _smirking_ like the damn whore he is."

Sebastian shrugged as if the words didn't pierce through him like fucking ice. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn't. He couldn't fucking feel shit, remember? Sebastian just kept on smirking for the most bit, but Kurt stared back at him. Kurt then took a deep breath. "You do realise, Mr Smythe, that rape is commonly something that one cannot forget or move by very quickly even with years of intensive help. There is nothing as horrific as having someone that is so rightfully yours being taken away from you in such a violent manner."

Hummel the medical textbook.

Sebastian rolled his eyes but then Jean added on. "He doesn't even fucking remember the rape. He isn't allowed to be obsessed about something he can't eve remember."

"Of course," Kurt's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Because yes, he doesn't remember, and nobody feels any horror in the knowledge that they just woke up, they don't know where to go or what happened and they deduce the evidence of such an event happening to them through their clothing or bits and pieces of a lost night. Surely, that is nothing to be traumatised from. To know that in one moment, your life is fine, but to wake up understanding that something happened, that someone ripped the ability to trust or feel secure—then that's definitely nothing important. Not at all."

Jean shrugged, catching the sarcasm in Kurt's voice. Ha. Jean was the fucker of sarcasm. Sebastian just stared back at Kurt.

And to conclude the argument in completely eloquent manner, Jean finally said, 'well, those fuckers aren't Sebastian. All Sebastian does is shoot heroin, drink himself to a bloody grave, fuck men and then give them STD's. The thing is, whatever your face is, Sebastian can't get traumatised. He's a fucking stallion."

Kurt sighed, and picked up his bag, nodding the silent Blaine to leave. He turned to look at Jean with hard eyes. "Even a stallion faces trauma, Mr Smythe."

"Wow, cryptic shit," Jean murmured. "How riveting."

And then, Sebastian stared at Kurt leave. He didn't know how to feel about that either.

* * *

Sebastian finally knew about how he felt about the world. It was shit. That or he was just addressing the eggs his Mother made him this morning. They were shit. The yolk was as runny as shit. He was pretty sure his Mother didn't even fucking cook. What the hell was she trying to do? Poison the trauma out of him? He was pretty sure if he ate those damn eggs, he'd never stop shitting.

He ate a spoonful and then decided that it was shit so he stop eating it, which led to his Mother asking him if he was anorexic (ha, yeah right, first of his, his BMI was a damned 17.6. He had to lose a pound to even be considered anorexic) and also, he probably went off that 'phase' like five fucking years ago, right? Yeah. Sure. Definitely. He gained all the weight he can (all the damned gross six pounds and then he grew a few inches. Kinda balanced out but human biology was not his damned fault).

"You're looking exceptionally thin," Nathalie murmured as she laid a hand on his shoulder. She didn't want to do that. There were bones jutting out of there that would make her shit bricks. When she realised this, she pretty much did a definite drama queen squeal and he laughed. "Sebastian, did you stop eating again?"

Nope. Because to stop eating, it meant he had to have started eating and that wasn't going to happen any damned century soon.

He went off and scared the shit out of Hummel when he wore something that fit him perfectly and was black. He looked like a sick whore apparently according to the cashier anyway. He said that Sebastian looked like he'd drop dead. That was nice. Cashiers were so fucking nice to him, though he still wanted to shove shit up their asses for putting full-fat milk when he asked for low-fucking-fat. Jeez. Who destroyed their damned IQs?

When Kurt had seen him, he looked as pale as Hell. Cute.

"What the fuck do you eat?" Kurt finally hissed. "Do you even eat?"

"Depending," Sebastian snidely remarked. "When? And what?" he smirked, suggesting something completely different.

"Sebastian, honestly, I worry for you," Kurt said. It was strange. Kurt was telling him not to completely kill himself and Sebastian was just wondering where Blaine was. Kurt must've known it too because he finally said. "Blaine's at his home and by the way, his family takes it seriously when Blaine has a meagre cold. If anyone of his families even heard of the indication that Blaine was raped, he will be taken to therapy, and given medication and every day, someone will tell him that he loved him and that if he needed someone to talk to, someone would always be there."

Kurt shut his eyes, and then said, 'I'm always here for you, you blasted meerkat. I may not enjoy your presence to the fullest and may not understand you, but to be honest, you are like a book that I need to cipher, a book that is being slowly burned. You are killing yourself if go on doing what you do. Nobody gets that thin unless they strive to be a skeleton, Sebastian."

Sebastian shrugged as if Kurt had said nothing at all.

"Sebastian," Kurt grabbed his shoulder, staring deep into his eyes. "Respond to me in all honestly, how long have you been starving yourself?"

"Ha, it's not called starving yourself if you don't even feel hungry anymore, Hummel," Sebastian fully retorted, 'and to answer your inaccurate statement, ever since ninth grade. And before you launch onto what traumatic event happened, nothing happened and I'm sick of people asking me why the hell I'm the way I am and what horrible, horrible thing happened to me. Nothing fucking happened. Getting ass-raped happened recently. Otherwise, I'm just a fucking whore and a douchebag and my Dad's right. Will you believe Berry if she told you that she's gonna stop singing? No, Hell no, unfortunately, because it's in her nature to sound like a strangled cat when she's singing, just like it's in my nature to fuck men. My Dad has every right to remind me that I'm a slut—"

"Firstly, if you're blaming me for inaccurate, a slut is technically a promiscuous _woman_," Kurt explained, which was quite a witty damned comeback. Hummel had the ability to impress Sebastian sometimes. "Secondly, I don't care what happened to you. It is still _Hell_ and nobody deserves it. Regardless of how much of douches they are. Thirdly, yes, you can be moderately sinister, but you are human, Sebastian. The only difference between you and me is that you bluntly state that you use people, that you blackmail them, and your opinions are obviously projected. Actually, Sebastian, I am jealous of you, but at the same time, I feel sorry for you, because in the end, you seem confident but you are projecting very disordered eating, meaning that you have no confidence. You tell me you don't feel anything but I believe that apathy is an emotion."

Kurt watched as Sebastian stared at him for a second. "You feel too much apathy, Sebastian and people don't realise that that can hurt too."

Sebastian snorted, and then stared at Kurt. He said nothing but Sebastian slowly nodded his head. "Nice hearing you rant about my state of mind, Hummel."

"Anytime."

Sebastian was just about to leave when he looked back at Kurt. He leaned down and he kissed his cheek. It was a small kiss. It looked even brotherly to those that didn't know him. Kurt placed a hand on his cheek. Kurt looked up to see Sebastian. "Your skin is far too cold for my liking."

"Well, you can't have it all when you starve yourself to death," Sebastian snapped back coldly.

"Eat something."

"Shove that damned non-fat mocha up your ass, why don't you?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'll see you again, Sebastian, lurking through the Lima Bean, in search of my boyfriend's ass."

Sebastian snorted. "Of course," he said, voice a little dull. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

When he'd gotten home, Sebastian slammed the door and went upstairs. Surprise, surprise, his parents were still arguing about the same damn thing.

"Get him a therapist, Jean," Nathalie finally said, looking down at her painted nails. "He's losing weight again."

"He's fine. He just wants to look like a damned model so that every guy can fuck the shit out of him," the man rolled his eyes. They stood by the kitchen counter. In the counter, there were two solid cups of tea, and a tray of crumpets that nobody had ever really touched except for the occasional guests and dammit, if Sebastian can have guests in this damn house. Sebastian hated guests. Jean hated guests. He wanted to fuck guests with a stick.

Oh, and the doorbell rang. There was a guest. The guest was that brown-haired some-blue-eyed shit – Kurt Hummel. Jean hated to the core of his being, naturally. He can just shove all the crumpets down the bitch's throat. "_You_," Jean glared at him.

Nathalie didn't seem to care as she still debated with Jean. "He cried," Nathalie reminded him, her voice filled with worry.

"He's weak," Jean simply explained, eyes vacant and stoic. He had no emotion behind those eyes as he picked up one of the crumpets, played with the edges and allowing crumbs to fall. Then a sound of something had completely made the small baked item fall from his hand. It was a sound that he knew was damn well familiar but probably didn't want to really think about it.

"What was that sound?" Nathalie's eyes filled with horror.

"Nothing," Jean murmured.

Nathalie hadn't listened. She never fucking listened to him. Sebastian was fine. He was going to be fine. The boy tried to blind his love interest for fuck's sake—he followed Nathalie to Sebastian's room. Kurt was looking like he saw a damned ghost. What the hell was wrong with this kid and his skin anyway? Jean saw that her eyes were filled with some sort of transfixed horror.

"He…he couldn't have…there were no signs…" Nathalie said. "_Nothing_."

"Sometimes," the ghost Kurt thing began, staring at the source of Nathalie's dismay, 'there didn't have to be any signs…and I can't believe that…I was going to tell him something important but I suppose that it's not so important anymore."

The moral of the damn story? Started like it ended. Sebastian Smythe always got whatever the fuck he wanted. Nathalie's eyes were still full of fright as Jean's face started to drain of colour. Kurt knew that Sebastian would've loved seeing that bit, playing them like damned puppets. Ha. Sebastian would've loved to see Jean's face right now, completely and utterly horrified. He'd horrified his own Father. He didn't even think that was fucking possible. Jean stared down at his child.

Sebastian's hand was gripping tightly against a gun and the room was clattered in nothing more than cold blood and the contents of Sebastian's cracked wide open skull.

* * *

_feedback loves! would appreciate it. :) i have another similiar piece that is Blaine-based mapped out in my head. hopefully when i re-read this i'd remember._

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam _


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